Proof of Life
by chezchuckles
Summary: a Dash companion
1. Chapter 1

**Proof of Life: a Dash Companion**

* * *

><p>After the Butcher, Rick Castle finds it almost impossible to text Beckett anything at all.<p>

Well, not entirely true. That next day, he does text and ask her to dinner, but he sends it before he thinks, and after he thinks about it, he panics a little - not because he asked her to dinner, but because he texted her.

Texting doesn't seem like a good idea. Addresses? Never again.

She, apparently, feels the same. She does answer back with yes, but. . . Now that her phone has been used to trick her partner into walking blindly into a trap, she doesn't seem too keen on using that same method of communication with him.

She calls or she leaves him voicemail or she comes over unannounced; she doesn't text him either. Their emails are filled with inane and stupid things - videos of flashmob pillow fights and medieval weapons, go figure.

The first, real text he gets from her is the morning after their stitches have been removed, their scars on display. But it's not just text, it's a photo of her beautiful, wide-open eyes, her soft and gorgeous face in the bed he just left, hair in a halo around her, lashes so long, that smile curving her lips: _I opened my eyes, _it says. He saves it, saves it everywhere; it's the screen lock picture on his phone.

While his daughter is on the couch eating ice cream and still teary-eyed over breaking up with Ashley, Castle sends Kate back a slightly blurry photo of his goofy, smiling face, his gratitude so overwhelming that even he's a little embarrassed by it. But he sends it anyway. Her photo message seems to have broken the ice, even if they still aren't talking about all the things they don't talk about.

She texts him back immediately: _Nice to see your face. How's this for POL?_ And she's attached a photo of the hickey he left just above her belly button.

Damn.

He's so stunned and thrown off his game that it takes him longer than it should to text her back.

_POL?_

He wishes he could call her and talk, but Alexis is curled up against his side, half-asleep as they watch stupid romantic comedies, neither of them talking about Ashley or the break-up (he knows she'll spill everything to his mother later, so he's okay with this).

But Kate texts him back not long after that. _Proof Of Life._

And then suddenly all the happy delight in their texting gets sucked out of him; it goes from alluring to haunted in seconds. He puts his phone on the coffee table and closes his eyes, squeezes Alexis a little tighter where she rests against him.

Proof of life. Damn. That's the thing, isn't it? Every time they text, there's going to be the specter of what happened, they're going to wonder-

Well. But. Gallows humor, right? This is how they deal.

Castle leans forward again, making Alexis shift against him, and he grabs his phone to text her back.

_I like POLs that include Beckett skin._

* * *

><p>Their proofs of life get downright dirty, and then they gradually morph into just short lines about where they are or what they're doing when they're not together. When they are together, she's teasing him about the way he marks her, and he's trying not to mar her skin any more than it already is.<p>

When they're not together, the texts keep them both steady.

_POL. Need a bath, a book, wine. Alone. Tomorrow, Castle._

That's one he gets at least once a week, actually. It's become a kind of joke between them. POL synonymous with Kate needing time to decompress, to be given space. He's okay with that because his POL's start to include what he wants to do to her, or what he wants from her - all of this in texts between them, of course, because saying these things out loud just isn't how they work.

_POL: eating this amazing manicotti. veggie. you'd love it. leftovers in the fridge when you're done cheating on me with my book._

It's close to pathetic, but it's not really, because she often interrupts her bath and book and wine nights to come over late, eat his leftovers and sit with him, too close, on the couch, making out or talking or laughing.

The texts back and forth begin to be proof of their life together - what they're doing and how slowly they're doing it, but how good it is too.

* * *

><p>It's the best POL he thinks he's ever gotten. A video. He can hear her crying in the background only because of the way her breathing changes, the way her voice sounds when she talks to the technician. And he's crying too.<p>

When she shows up at his loft with her overnight bag - really, it's got almost nothing in it now, because so much of her stuff is here already - she's got this strange look on her face, and he knows she can still see the evidence of his own tears.

"I got your text," he breathes, lifts his hand to her. "The video."

She comes to him, still looking stunned, and he realizes she's pressed her hand to her belly and dropped the bag in the floor.

"Oh my God, Castle. I'm pregnant."

He can't help the laugh that escapes, feels her shake her head against his collarbone. She's wearing flats, not heels, and she fits under his chin like this, close and tight.

"Kate, we've known for a while?" He's not going to say - _duh, look at you_ - even though, he really, really wants to. She's not _that_ pregnant, she keeps telling him. Only twelve weeks.

"Yeah, but seeing - seeing it on the screen," she murmurs.

"You cried," he says quietly.

She nods, doesn't even hide it. He feels her mouth twist at his neck, a smile. "You did too, huh?"

"Yeah," he admits gruffly, feels the leftover emotion still in his voice.

She sent him the video of her ultrasound appointment, the baby on the monitor. Proof of life.

"Could you hear the heartbeat on the video?" she murmurs. "Over me crying."

"Yeah," he says softly, laughing a little at her. And even though she hates it when people touch her as if she's public property now, Castle lays his palm against her stomach, connection.

"I'm sorry," she says finally, slowly wraps her arms around him. "I was being - I'm sorry."

"What for?" That video was amazing. Amazing. It took him an hour to get himself back together again, mostly because he wasn't sure she'd be coming over afterward. Now that she's here, he could cry all over again.

"I know I'm not being good about this," she says into his shirt. "But you're coming with me next time, okay? I shouldn't have - shut you out."

His heart soars.

She presses her mouth to his ear. "Next proof of life - you should be there in person."

* * *

><p>Even when she's freaking out on him, even when she's walking out on him, she doesn't forget.<p>

He's pacing the living room; he has no idea where she ran off to, probably her apartment, but his phone vibrates and he pounces on it.

_POL._ No photo this time, no suggestion about what she might be doing, but just those three little letters ease him, bring him back down. Almost better than ILY, which she has, actually, texted him before. Once before. Before she got pregnant.

She's alive. She's pregnant with his son - crazy pregnant - but she's okay. And she still cares enough about him to let him know she's okay.

He takes this as more than just proof of life; he takes it as proof of _them._

* * *

><p>"Castle. Wake up."<p>

He jerks at the slap of her hand on his cheek, feels awareness returning. He just - they just - she _knows_ it takes him a moment to recoup after a session like that, jeez, woman-

"Castle, wake up, wake up," she mutters, and draws her hand down his arm, twines their fingers together. "You're missing it."

She's pulled the sheets up around them, after, and he slowly stirs, clears his throat before he talks so he doesn't sound like an idiot. But he's pretty sure that happens anyway - pregnant, horny Kate is gonna kill him.

"What am I missing?" he grumbles, presses a lazy kiss to the back of her neck.

"Oh, good, you're awake now. You were passed out," she laughs, then squeezes his fingers. "Feel this."

She yanks his arm forward; he rolls into her with a laugh that is immediately choked out of him the second he feels the strong surge under his hand, under her belly.

"Oh my God."

"Yeah," she breathes, her head turns and her lips catch his cheek, a kiss that turns into a little bite. "Yeah. Feel him?"

"He's going nuts."

"He always wakes up when I go to bed."

He can actually feel individual body parts. "That - that - that was his elbow. Oh my God, I can feel his elbow."

She lowers his hand and he gasps.

"Foot?" Toes. He felt actual toes. "This is - this is beautiful and yet so very weird, Kate."

She laughs and releases his hand, but doesn't seem to care if he keeps touching her or not, so he doesn't move away. Instead, he props himself up so he can slide his hand around.

Elbow again. Maybe chin? Something. A knee.

"He's doing his stretches," she mutters. "And then I'll get about two hours of soccer practice."

"He's a wild man," Castle laughs, leaning over to kiss her, knowing it's a little too urgent but he doesn't care. They're in a relatively good place, despite the fighting, the constant fighting, because they always make up like this. Constant making up. "Thanks for waking me."

"I promised you," she says on a shrug and falls silent.

"Promised me?" he nudges. When did he make her promise anything? He's been so very careful not to ask for promises from her.

She shifts a little to look at him, strokes a hand down his cheek in a gesture far more tender than he's seen from her these last few months. His chest eases, and he didn't realize it was cramped before that.

"I promised you proof of life in person, didn't I?"

Castle grins widely at her, the whole knot of tension dissolving in him, completely. Gone.

She might still not know what their life is going to look like, she might still need time to be alone and panic about this, but if she's making him promises and keeping them - well, yeah. It's good.

It'll be good.

They can do this.

* * *

><p>For the first time in his life, almost his whole entire life, Rick Castle feels like there's not much more he could possibly imagine that would be better than this.<p>

He's in his study, sitting at his desk, and his son has fallen asleep at his feet in the crawl space, that baby mouth actually open and drooling on Castle's toes. As he writes, he keeps his legs still, doesn't roll his chair around because he isn't sure where all those little fingers are, and the warmth of his son's body draped over his feet is strangely amazing. It makes his heart ache.

Of course, he stuck his phone at his knee and took a picture, sent it in a text to Kate.

_POL,_ he wrote.

So when his phone rings to the tune of 'Hill Street Blues', he knows it's the 12th's exchange, the main line, so he answers without looking, assuming Kate is calling from the phone at her desk.

But it's not Kate.

"Hey man."

"Ryan?" He glances at his phone as if he needs to check. "What's - why are you calling?"

"I can't call you?"

"During the day? You never call me during the day."

"What about when Bueller showed up?"

"You mean when Matthew Broderick came in and reported his car got stolen? That was a special occasion. What's the special occasion now?"

"Oh. Well. I just - I wondered if you - ah-"

"Ryan?"

"Have you heard from Beckett lately?"

His heart flips. "Ah. I got - I sent her a text a few hours ago. But. No. I-"

"Okay, just wondered. Gotta go!" And the phone clicks in his ear.

He stares at his phone, calls Ryan back. It rings and rings. Then he thinks better of it and calls Kate.

It rings and rings. Goes to voicemail.

So her phone is still on. That's a good sign. It means she's out in the field somewhere, right? Has it turned all the way down so that it won't interrupt a takedown or something. Except-

He calls Ryan's cell, but Ryan doesn't answer.

He calls Esposito next, certain Ryan is hiding from him. If Kate's phone is on - then that means some bad guy hasn't crushed it under his foot, and that's good. That's a silver lining.

She rarely turns her phone off, though she often keeps it silent. Most everyone knows to call him first - he's the contact for the preschool, even Jim calls him first to get Kate a message.

Which is all the boys were doing, right? Just trying to get in touch with Kate.

Except-

Esposito answers with a forced cheer. "Castle. Bro. What's going on?"

"Why don't you guys know where Beckett is?" he says bluntly.

"Ryan got nervous. Ignore him being a pansy-"

There's an indignant yell at that, and some hushed whispering, and then Esposito comes back on.

"Look, Castle. No big deal. We still on for Halo on Friday?"

Halo. On Friday. "Yeah." And then Esposito hangs up on him too and Castle is sitting at his desk with his heart frozen but the rest of him insisting-

_No, no. Because I'd know if something was wrong. I'd know._

Still, he pulls up his messages and texts her, three letters, fingers trembling on the keys.

_POL?_

* * *

><p>When she doesn't immediately text him back, Castle calls her father, his feet still trapped by his sleeping son.<p>

"Hey there, Rick."

"Morn - ah, afternoon, I guess. Wow, I've really lost track of time," Castle says, trying for normal, hoping he's not failing. Kate will never forgive him if he upsets her father for nothing. "Been writing. Listen, I know it's last minute, but I was wondering if you'd do me a favor?"

"Want me to take Dashiell?" Jim asks, sounding eager.

Castle laughs. "Yeah, actually. But - for the night? He loves it at your place, and I-" Shit. He almost said too much. Almost told his father-in-law that he's not sure he could handle it if Kate doesn't come home tonight. "I - I wanted to do something for Kate. Tonight."

"Sure, sure. I've got everything he needs here."

"Yeah, that's great. Great. Thank you. Do you want to meet in the middle-"

"No, no. I can come get him. I'm at the diner with Kelly. I can be there in twenty."

"Oh, cool. Okay. Tell Kelly hi for me. Thanks, Jim-"

"You know - Rick - you know you can call me Dad. If you want."

His chest constricts, between the warmth in Kate's father's voice and the warmth of his son at his feet, and hovering over all of that, haunting him, is the shimmering vision of doing this without Kate.

No. No. Kate is fine.

"Thank you," he says finally. "I - I appreciate the offer." He hesitates, he's about to say it, and the the moment is lost.

They both hang up.

* * *

><p>Rick slowly slides his bare feet out from under his son, manages not to wake him, and hunts around the loft for a bag to pack Dashiell's stuff inside. He finds the duffle that Kate usually keeps in her car, uses that to throw in extra diapers, clothes, the pacifiers they haven't quite broken the kid from.<p>

He leaves it by the door along with the messenger bag that carries all the other things - snacks, his sippy cup, blanket - the stuff Dash usually takes with him to preschool.

Castle heads back into his study, then gets in the floor at his desk and calls softly for his son. He sees the little eyes slowly opening, his face a heartbreaking reminder of his mother.

_No need to get maudlin, Castle._

She's practically talking to him in his own head. Her voice is so strong, she can't possibly be in danger. He'd know. It would feel differently.

"Hey there, buddy. Good nap?"

Dashiell uncurls from the tight, dark space and crawls into his father's arms, yawning widely. "Nap."

"Yeah, my man. You fell asleep on my feet. Did you know that?"

"Seep."

Castle laughs and cradles him close, gets to his knees so he can stand. He brushes his lips over Dash's temple and rubs a hand down his back, surprised that his son's closeness, his sleepy warmth has somehow calmed Castle down.

He's just carrying Dash into the living room when the knock sounds at the door. Dashiell perks up and gives his father an eager look; Castle opens the door to Jim and Kelly, the woman from the preschool that Jim has become good friends with.

"Hey there, Dashiell," Jim says and reaches for the boy.

Castle lets him go, nods to Kelly as the two cross into the loft. "Thanks for taking him. I appreciate your help."

"Yeah, I'm sure you guys can use some time alone." Jim gives him a look, entirely too knowledgeable, and Castle - he could be blushing. That could be possible.

"Ah, yeah." Castle clears his throat and reaches out a hand to Dash, rubbing his back. "Hey, wild man, you get to spend the night with Papa."

His grandfather hugs him, then reaches down for one of the bags. Kelly stoops and takes one as well.

"Thanks, Kell," he murmurs and glances back up at Castle. "Okay, son. Well. We'll let you get to planning or whatever it is. Tell Katie hi for me. You guys calling before bedtime?"

He feels his heart tremble at the innocent question, and the look on his face must be interpreted wrong because Jim laughs.

"Never mind. I won't plan on hearing from you. Trying for a girl, right?"

Damn, does _everyone_ know that already? Last week it was Lanie, this week Ryan was trying to give him advice on old Irish customs that were a surefire way to get a girl. They just had this conversation, she just persuaded him - his reversal surgery was only-

"Yeah," he says, shakes his head. "She told you that?"

"Yeah," Jim says, still laughing. "I told her that she should expect another boy. Just so she's not got her heart set on a girl."

Castle nods at that, his heart twisting. He hopes - hopes they get the chance for that. Hopes this isn't it. "Yeah. Good advice."

Jim laughs again, pats Castle's shoulder. "I know it's weird to talk about with me. I've just had to be both father and mother to Katie, so-" He shrugs at Castle. "Used to it now, I guess. But we'll go, leave you alone."

Castle only gets a moment to say good-bye to Dash and then the door closes after them, taking his son, leaving Castle well and truly alone in their apartment.

_Had to be both father and mother._

He calls her phone again, just in case.

Still no text from her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Proof of Life**

* * *

><p>Castle shows up at the 12th and neither of them look surprised. Good, because there's no way they can make him leave.<p>

"So."

"Man."

"Dude."

All that needs to be said. Castle heads for the white board as if there's a case for him there, shakes his head and instead sits in Kate's chair. His chair is still there by the desk, _always will be_ she told him, but he feels like that sitting in Kate's desk chair will somehow invoke her wrath, call her up.

It doesn't. Not right then. But he actually feels better for it.

"Tell me what's going on," he says finally.

"She's just - off the grid, man," Esposito says first, coming around his own desk to reach Castle at Beckett's. "We can't reach her."

"Open cases?"

"Just the one," Ryan adds, sidling up to them, file folder in his hand. "A gang shooting. Two vics. Gang initiation was our thinking."

"This the board for it?" he asks, looking past Ryan to the white board still set up next to Kate's desk. Her handwriting all over it, neat and precise in some places, sloppier as it gets to the bottom.

"Yeah."

He stands up and heads over, eyes taking in details. It's been a while since he's stood in front of her murder board and mulled over a case. It's completely wrong to be doing it without her.

"So. Let's make our own," he says, then stutters to a stop as he realizes what that sounds like. He shakes his head. "A timeline. We'll-" he sucks in a breath, clears his head. "We'll make a timeline. Last few hours. Who was the last one to see her?"

Ryan raises his hand. "Me. Before lunch."

Castle moves, but Esposito has already beaten him to it - the board is flipped to the clean side and the marker is placed in Castle's hand. Black for the timeline. Castle nods his thanks to Espo and starts to fill in the details.

"What else?" he says, and he feels better already.

* * *

><p>When her phone stops ringing, when it begins going to voicemail immediately, that's when it sets in.<p>

He can't reach her. He can't find her.

She's been working a case in which the gang members often go after cops for the street cred.

He doesn't know where she is.

He sits in her chair and tries not to look at the murder board - shit,_ shit_, he wrote her disappearance on the damn murder board, is he insane? is he _taunting_ the universe and expecting the universe not to take everything from him?

"Castle?"

His head jerks up.

Kate walks down the hall towards him, her face a beautiful mask of confusion. He stumbles to his feet.

"What are you - where's Dash?"

He blinks dumbly at her approach, his whole body trembling, and he can see Esposito and Ryan already rushing their way from the conference room where everything has been spread out, and if he doesn't do this now, they'll get to her first.

Castle takes the last few steps to meet her in the hall and wraps both arms around her, lifting her off her feet, his breath stuttering. His heart pounding. His body shaking in relief.

"Kate."

"Where's Dash? Where's our son?" she says, and her voice rises, her hands at his cheeks. "Castle. Where's Dash?"

He shakes his head, a hysterical sound bubbling up his throat that he absolutely, absolutely cannot let out, but that also means he can't answer her immediately. Her face goes ashen and that wipes out everything else.

"No, he's fine. He's fine. He's at your dad's. Just at your dad's."

She drops her head to his shoulder, squeezes his bicep. "Shit, you scared me."

Esposito and Ryan are on them now, hanging back only a little, and Castle does laugh at that. "You have no idea. Why - why is your phone off?"

She pulls back, startled, digs into her jacket pocket. "Oh, sorry. It must have died."

Castle raises an eyebrow and looks past her to Esposito and Ryan who have the same incredulity written on their faces as he does.

Her phone died.

He glances to the clock. It's been four hours. That's it. Four hours she's been off the grid and he's here plotting a murder board?

Shit.

He turns her around and pushes her towards Ryan and Esposito, who were going over their gang case in the conference room when she walked in, trying to put the pieces together. "The guys wanted to show you something on the case," he says, shooting Esposito and then Ryan intense stares.

They seem to get it, and even though Kate shoots him a strange look, she follows Esposito into the conference room.

Castle rushes back to the whiteboard, quickly scrubs out most of it with a few hasty swipes of the eraser, then flips the board back over. Just in time, because here comes Kate with the boys, biting at her lower lip.

"That an idea," she says. "But I just spent four hours at Riker's hand-holding one of our witnesses, guys, so let's say we break for the day?"

At Riker's. The prison. Where they took her phone and personal effects while she visited an inmate in the jail.

"Yeah, break is good," Esposito says quickly. Ryan nods, Castle nods, they are all nodding, so relieved and feeling stupid too, at least, Castle is. Feeling stupid. He glances at the boys and sees on their faces the same pact.

She will never know of this.

How they overreacted.

* * *

><p>Music is coming out of the Bose speakers when they get in the apartment, like he walked out with it on, totally forgetting. She raises an eyebrow at him, wants to laugh at the surprise on his face. He must not have realized, in such a hurry to get to the 12th.<p>

"You're cute," she grins, lets him wrap his arms around her as the door swings shut. Whew, that's tight, but it means she can get in close, press her lips to his neck. "Good album." Black Keys? Yeah. Soft and sexy, just like the skin right here at his jaw, that spot that doesn't grow scruff.

He grunts and crowds into her, his mouth at her ear. "How - how much - jeez-"

"Oh?" she murmurs on a laugh. He's got his hands all over her, but she likes it. Really, he hasn't let go of her since she walked into the 12th and found him there. "How much what?"

"How much I love you, I love you, I love you," he murmurs into her neck, nudging her to the middle of the living room, his fingers at her waist, sliding under her shirt.

"Wait. What's wrong? What's wrong?" she says back, sucking in a long breath at the feel of the slow dance he does against her ribs, her breasts, already sliding her shirt off her head.

"I love you."

"Rick, please," she whispers, not at all liking the dark and desperate need in his voice, in his eyes. What's going on?

The music is rough and ready, and so is he apparently. His fingers dig into her hips as his mouth closes over her exposed skin, his body bent nearly in half over her.

The song shuffles from _Never gonna give you up_ slow and moody to _My next girl, ain't nothing like my ex girl, That was a painful dance Now I got a second chance_, and she laughs despite the tinge of sorrow in the air, the taste of grief in his mouth. His next girl. Uh-huh.

He sighs at her laugh, and tension drains out of his shoulders suddenly; his touch gentles and wraps around her, his arms tighter than she might like but strong and solid and not nearly so desperate any more.

"What's wrong?" she says again. "And why exactly did you send Dashiell to my dad?"

"He's - spending the night. So we can do - do this." But he doesn't sound convincing.

"Allie?" she asks next. She knows the place is empty, but doesn't hurt to ask.

"Alexis," he grumbles, but her use of the newly-dubbed nickname has him huffing a laugh at her. She can do it too - bring him up out of his darkness with the sudden surge of amusement, humor, life.

"Yes," she concedes. "And where is our oldest?"

"Our oldest," he hums, his thumb circling her bare belly button. "She's at Joy's or Emily's or someone's, grad school applications. All day thing."

"She said the school in Chicago is four years. Did you know that?"

"No. I didn't. Still, a doctorate in social work. Sounds good."

"Mm, sure. If she wants to do that." Kate shivers, shirtless in the slight chill. It's been spring weather this March, but the nights are still cold. "Wanna take me to bed, Rick, or leave me freezing in the middle of the living room?"

He grins and steps back, eyeing her a moment. "I rather like this look. Black dress pants, no shirt, black bra-"

"You haven't even seen my underwear yet. You might like them better."

"Oh, I know I will. You're wearing black stripes. Saw 'em this morning," he adds, his thumbs dipping below the waistband of her pants. "Sexy as hell."

"Stripes are sexy?"

"You. Just you. I was worried."

She blinks, then realizes he's gone back to the original thing. "Worried. About Dash?"

"About you, babe."

She growls at him and darts in to press her teeth into his mouth, nibbling his bottom lip in retaliation for the pet name.

"Hey now, ease up. I thought you'd been shot."

"What?" she gasps, jerks back. "Shot? Who the hell told you that?"

"No. No one. I just - couldn't reach you."

Her phone. She drops her head in one hand, groaning. "Oh, Rick. I - I couldn't take it into the prison with me. And then the battery had died when I got it back."

"Ryan called me first. He couldn't reach you."

"I didn't have my phone," she whispers, crashing her forehead against his broad chest. A hand comes up to her shoulder, curls there.

"I couldn't get you either. I - did you check your texts?"

"I just - I got the picture of Dash. Asleep?"

She lifts her head to look at him; he's giving her a small smile. "Yeah. Asleep under my desk, on my feet."

"I got that one at ten this morning. Wait." She pulls back from him and takes her phone out of her pocket; she charged it a little bit at her computer before they left. It still has just enough juice for her to pull up her notifications. Four missed calls from him. The last message from Rick-

_POL?_

"Oh God," she whispers, lifts her eyes to him. "I am so, so sorry."

"Esposito said you guys were working the double homicide."

"Yeah," she breathes, closes her eyes against the look on his face.

"He said it's been gang initiations, but they - sometimes they go after cops-"

"Damn it, Esposito," she growls, but it's not his fault. It's hers. Her fault. She didn't even text Espo, just didn't think of it. No one knew exactly where she was, and while that's happened before, she can't be doing that any more. "I shouldn't have - I should have told someone. I thought it would be fast. Is that why you were at the station when I got there?"

He nods, lowering his head to kiss her cheek, below her eye, the edge of her eyebrow, the tendon throbbing in her forehead.

"Rick, I am so sorry. They confiscate everything at the door. I thought it would be a thirty minute interview and it turned into this all day thing. The boy witnessed everything; he wanted protection and after speaking to a cop, he couldn't go back in general population. So I got stuck-"

"It's not your fault. You don't need to apologize. Just bad timing."

"The boys got you panicked."

"They did. So I asked your dad to take Dash. Then the boys and I ran down - leads. To your whereabouts. Tracking your last known - it was - I think maybe I didn't look so hot, because Ryan kept asking if I needed to go lie down." He laughs, but it doesn't sound right at all.

She curls around him, nestling closer to his warmth, trying to soothe him with her presence. "Next time I won't be reachable, I'm letting you know. Or at least the boys. I promise. I am so very sorry."

He nods, cups her face in his wide palms. "I just - I love you. I really do. And it scared the shit out of me to think you might be hurt somewhere, and needing me, and I was just here, and I didn't even know it. All day I was here writing and having fun with Dash, and how could I not know you were - could be - might have been dying?"

"I wasn't. I'm fine. Just lack of communication. All my fault."

"It's not. It's not anyone's fault. Just really bad timing," he says, giving her a weak smile that does nothing to make that washed-out, brittle look evaporate from his eyes.

"Let me make it up to you, Castle," she murmurs, puts her mouth against his adam's apple and licks, feels him shudder hard.

His breaths are already ragged; he makes a noise in the back of his throat that causes her stomach to clench, need and pain both.

"I'm here. Let me love you, Rick, love, oh, please-" She pushes her hips into his, rocks against him slowly, trails her fingers under his shirt and along his ribs.

He doesn't disagree, doesn't say anything at all. He just curls around her, arms and legs and hips and chest meeting hers, his mouth bathing every inch of skin it finds.

She quickly unzips her pants, slides them off, trying not to lose contact with him, trying to keep him here and not back in his own head, worried and filled with worst case scenarios. As always, his overactive imagination a blessing and a curse both.

His eyes glitter in the darkness of the loft, alight with a slow-burning lust, a glorious need that awakens something equally hungry within her.

"We haven't done this in ages," she whispers.

"Two days," he laughs, but it's also a growl by the end that makes her hips jerk.

"Two days is too long."

"You say that now."

"Mm, true. But I still want you, Castle. Are you gonna take me, or leave me?"

"I'm taking." He's already pulling her thigh up and around his waist, fingers too tight.

The Black Keys seem to be stuck on that one song, over and over, and the words rattle in her head as Castle pushes her towards the couch, his body against hers in time to the music.

_Made mistakes back then, I'll never do it again. That was a painful dance, Now I got a second chance._

* * *

><p>Kate is so glad she took a half day today. The weather is that strange flux of breeziness and warm sun, feels so lovely on her skin. Castle trails along behind her, their fingers laced together as they head away from the Brazen Head, that little bookstore built inside an apartment.<p>

"I love that place," he says, sounding happy. She turns her head to look at him and hands back her bag, making him carry it.

Whole reason she took the half-day, whole reason she asked him to take her to the book store, whole reason-

for everything.

"Why don't you look inside?" she says, and she can't help the way her fingers brush against her belly button, her heart pounding so hard.

Castle sticks his hand inside the bag and pulls out a thin picture book. Daddy Loves His Little Girl by John Carter Cash - whose parents were Johnny Cash and June Carter, a love story that Kate absolutely adores (she bought the Johnny Cash autobiography today as well, couldn't help herself).

She watches his face as he flips open the picture book, finds the father and daughter in a magical castle by the sea-

He looks up at her, stunned. Kate presses her palm against her still-flat stomach, and she sees the knowledge pass from her to him, sees it bloom in his eyes.

His mouth splits wide into a gorgeous smile, golden late-afternoon sunlight highlighting him. When his fingers flex around her hand and draw her back to him, she comes, grinning. Castle lays his hand overs her, his thumb brushes her shirt, shoots delicious sparks down to her toes.

"It's yournext girl," she murmurs, breathless with the way he's looking at her.

"How do you know it's a girl?" he says, dropping a kiss to her mouth, caressing her lips.

"Feels like it," she shrugs.

"How does it feel?"

"Easy," she laughs, raises her hand from under his to stroke his cheek. "It feels like the best thing in the world."

"Could just be different circumstances," he nudges his nose against her cheek.

"Ya think?" she says, then kisses him again. "But not just that, stud."

"Mm-hm, I think the fact that you're pregnant definitely makes me a stud."

She chuckles against him and lifts into his embrace. "I knew this time. Before you did. Yeah?"

"Yeah," he admits, laughs too.

"I could feel it. Feel her," she whispers, brushes the back of her fingers against his chest. "I could feel our baby girl."

He bows over her, his arms crushing her into a deep embrace, his laughter sounding a little choked. "Oh, God, Kate."

She wraps her arms around his neck, feels the bag from the book store pressing into her back, the knowledge - and the new life - between them. "We're going to have a baby," she murmurs into his ear.

He tightens his arms, presses a kiss into her mouth that pours liquid fire down her veins.

When she has to break for air, she realizes he's stroking his hand over her stomach, around and around.

"It's your turn," she says quietly. They're on the sidewalk in the middle of Manhattan and all she can see is him, the blue of his eyes. She hopes their baby has his eyes this time. "It's your turn, Rick."

"My turn?" he says, his voice ragged, low with what sounds like want mixed with joy. And then his confusion clears and he gives her that amazing, wonderful smile. "To name her? I get to name her. I get to name her."

"No stripper names. And nothing from Star Wars," she warns, but she's still grinning at him. "Promise me."

"Promise. Baby Kate will have a perfect name. I'm great at names."

"Baby Kate?"

"Mini-Kate?"

She just shakes her head at him, taking his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together as he smiles at her, all that gorgeous joy beaming out of him, so wide and expansive that even the pedestrians walking past them are giving them smiles back, are twitching their lips with a contagious happiness, and it hits her - it hits her.

What she took from him last time, what she didn't let them have, because she wasn't ready for it, because she was afraid.

Not this time.

She cradles his face between her palms and lifts up into a kiss, gentle and adoring for the man who loved her through the first one and loves her enough to do it again.

But this time it's different.


End file.
